


He's...something

by countrygirlsfun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cat Stiles, Derek is a Good Alpha, Dog Stiles, Fluff, Fox Stiles, Getting Together, Hurt Stiles, Injury Recovery, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, POV Alternating, Shapeshifter Stiles, Stilinski Family Feels, Wolf Derek, Wolf Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countrygirlsfun/pseuds/countrygirlsfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has to admit, keeping his secret under wraps is easier than he expected around his new-found werewolf friends. </p><p>Except for the Alpha that is never where he should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. It just happened. I saw the pics that I linked in the end notes and envisioned a fic where Stiles could turn into any animal he wanted.

Claudia Stilinski is sitting at her kitchen table savoring her first cup of coffee of the day and the silence of the house around her. Her six year old son’s last day of kindergarten was yesterday and for the next three months it’s going to be just the two of them, having adventures, like it used to be. Her son may be a ball of unfocused energy but she missed having him around the house with her while he was at school.

Their routine since the fall has been to get up at 7:30am, have breakfast together, get dressed and drive to school. And even on weekends Stiles still wakes her up no later than 8 o’clock; she hasn’t truly slept in for months. Sometimes John is around to help occupy him on the weekends but in general he needed the rest in the mornings more than she did. The joys of being married to a police officer.

Given her son’s habitual sleep schedule she’s surprised when she looks up at the clock and it reads quarter past nine. She leaves her coffee and goes up the stairs to her son’s bedroom to check on him. She peeks in the door and flicks on the lights. She’s surprised when she finds an empty bed and an empty room.

“Stiles?” she calls out.

Her son’s real name is Przemysław Stilinski, but after a week of being teased and laughed at for his funny name the three of them sat down to come up with a nickname. ‘Stiles’ was the most popular option and her son took to it rather quickly.

She does a quick check of the room and doesn’t see her six year old. The closet door is wide open, the bed is rumpled and the covers are thrown back like he got out of bed at some point. She leaves the bedroom door open and walks down the hall to the bathroom. But that door is open and the room is empty.

She calls out his name again and again as she makes her way through the second floor and then when she doesn’t get any response she goes back to the main floor. The longer she looks without success the more frantic she becomes. He’s never slept walked before so she has no idea what’s going on or where her son is.

After searching the house twice and even going as far as going outside to check their backyard and a short way into the forest behind their house she returns to the house and grabs her phone to call her husband. She goes back upstairs for a third time, checks that the window in Stiles’ room is in fact closed, again, and sinks down to sit on his bed. She has no idea where he’s at and she’s fighting tears as she dials in the number for the desk her husband should be working at.

She leans down, her elbow digging into her thigh as she covers her eyes with her palm. She takes a deep breath and then another so that when John answers she can at least be articulate. The ringing stops abruptly and her tired sounding husband’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Cloud? You know I’m on duty, what’s wrong?”

She tries to say it, opens her mouth even, but no sound comes out. Tears well up in her eyes as a whine leaves her throat before she can stop it.

“Claudia?” he asks again sounding alarmed. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

A sob escapes her because she is so far from okay but it breaks the dam and she’s suddenly releasing all the words she’s got pent up.

“No. No I’m not okay I- I can’t find him John. Stiles didn’t come down for breakfast and when I came up to check on him I find an empty bed and I can’t find him.”

She’s crying in earnest now and uncurls herself to flop back on her son’s empty bed.

“I looked everywhere and his window was closed the doors were all locked and I don’t know where he is. I don’t- I can’t, can’t find my baby.”

Then she hears it. The smallest little sound but it stops her sobs almost instantly. Then it’s there again and she peeks her eyes open just as a tiny orange tabby kitten butts their head against her face and mews in concern.

The Stilinski household is strictly pet free until Stiles turns at least eight years old.

The kitten continues to rub against her chin and face and meows again and again for a few moments as her breaths slow.

“John-“ she says voice wrecked from crying.

“I’m on my way,” she hears before the line goes dead and the kitten has curled up on her collarbones purring softly. She sits there for a moment in shock before she drops the phone on the bed and starts to scratch behind the kitten’s ears softly.

Ten minutes later her husband finds them in the same position as Claudia’s mind continues to run in circles. She knew this, predisposition, ran in her family line. She’d been told on her fourteenth birthday about her family and their history of magic and abilities. She was told again when she turned twenty one and had been dating John seriously for two years that if she got married and had children they might get the genes or they might be carriers. Claudia had eventually told John the little she knew about her family when they had been married a few years and Stiles was already two years old.

He took it surprisingly well for someone with no other connections to the supernatural world. Which is why she was reassured, not for the first time, that she’d picked the right man to build a family with.

And when John comes in and takes one look at the state she’s in and just knows to gather her up into his arms she thinks the same thing again.

It takes a while to talk to their son into trying to turn back into a human shape instead of the kitten one he seems to be enjoying. Eventually they get a naked little boy sitting on their laps pouting petulantly.

Once Claudia is sufficiently calm and Stiles is redressed John has to go back to work.

Stiles curiously doesn’t talk about it for the next few hours as the mother son duo spend the rest of the morning watching cartoons. Once John’s shift is over for the rest of the weekend and they’re all home together do they get the chance to explain what they know.

He’s a shapeshifter. It’s not something that will just happen out of the blue; he’ll learn to control it. Right now strong emotions will trigger him to change to a different shape. Stiles timidly admits he was really happy that summer was starting and he didn’t have to go to school for three whole months.

For as little as Claudia feels like she knows to explain they talk through most of the day. She thanks every deity that’s listening her son doesn’t freak out. He doesn’t say anything about feeling like a monster or that his newfound abilities are a bad thing. Mostly, he’s excited.

Claudia had been given a name, in her explanations, of a man who could help with the finer details of control and what it all meant.

Alan Deaton thankfully lives and works right in Beacon Hills and before the day is over they have an appointment for the next morning to go in before the vet clinic opens to talk over everything.

***

Stiles has vague memories of his first shift. He has more vivid memories of his first visit to Dr. Deaton’s vet clinic. That very first time had been more than a little overwhelming but it was that meeting that jumpstarted Stiles’ training. He learns about himself first. Learns the history of his kind and what his abilities extend to. He can change his appearance into whatever he so chooses. Want to walk around as a panther? No problem. Fly as an eagle? _Sign him up_. It’s easiest to change into completely different creatures. Changing into different looking humans was a skill he just never perfected. He didn’t really have any body image issues either so unless his need for subterfuge became suddenly relevant he wasn’t too worried.

Stiles spent that summer divided between adventures with his mom and lessons at Deaton’s. He managed a certain level of control very quickly and even earned an ‘I’m proud of you,” from his dad when he first changed into a golden retriever puppy.

That was another issue or rule about the shift. Whatever he wanted to change into his age would transfer over as well. So for the longest time he shifted into kittens, puppies, kits and on a memorable occasion a bear cub. Talk about real life teddy bear.

As Stiles grew up his lessons with Deaton continued. He learned about more than just his species and it soon became his favorite time of day. He’d get himself through his days at school only to go to the vet clinic for an hour to learn before his mom picked him up.

He learned about werewolves and mermaids, kitsunes and kanimas. He finds out that angels and demons are more than Bible stories and nymphs and sprites are more than mythology. Stiles learns he’s not the only supernatural creature in Beacon Hills but Deaton, ever the elusive, doesn’t tell Stiles who else in town can shift in to other shapes.

As he grows he finds his favorite things to shift in to. Cats are perfect when he wants cuddles. Dogs or wolves are fun when he wants to play and run and get rid of all his anxious energy. He doesn’t shift to wolf puppies very often because until he gets older it’s just not that different from being a regular dog-type puppy. But his favorite shape to take is a fox.

They’re bodies have a certain level of grace and quickness that he uses to wear himself out when running or playing as a puppy just doesn’t work. His sense of smell isn’t that much better than when he’s a dog but his instinct to hunt and follow scents is stronger and easier to use to distract himself.

Plus he may be a little vain. Kits are insanely cute and his mother never failed to coo and stroke him from the top of his head all the way down to the tip of his tail. His mom has a picture of her holding his face as a kit and he’s sticking his tongue out at her. She had it framed and hung it in her office. After an afternoon frolicking through meadows and tree filled forests nothing beats getting pet when he comes home to rest. More than once he’s fallen asleep to her ministrations and woken up naked in his bed the next morning with red hairs all over his sheets.

When his mom gets sick he shifts less and less. It’s more due to his time being spent in the hospital at her bedside instead of the forest behind their house and less out of choice not to. He was always told not to shift without one of his parents there. Not because he was in danger of not being able to shift back but because he would still change into adolescent aged animals that needed watching over.

He didn’t ever doubt their rule because he knew they just wanted him safe. To be honest he never wanted to shift without someone looking out for him in the first place. He may be still cognitively there and still himself in whatever shape he’s taken but that doesn’t mean he’s always completely aware of what goes on around him. His trouble focusing doesn’t magically go away once he’s a fox.

When his mom dies he doesn’t shift. He can’t shift because he’s alone in the hospital while his dad is at work. He held his mother’s hand and told her one last time that he loved her and that his dad loved her and they’d watch out for each other. Even at the tender age of nine Stiles knew the dementia had taken her memories of them a few months previous. But he had to assure her she was loved. Even if she didn’t know by whom, he had to make sure his mom knew that she’d been loved.

His dad found him an hour later sitting somewhere in the hospital with his head in his hands trying to be as quiet as possible. But once he was pulled into his dad’s arms he sobbed uncontrolled until his dad’s uniform shirt had wet spots from his tears and he was asleep. At nine he was just bordering on too big to be carried around by his dad. But that night he didn’t have any room in his heart to be embarrassed.

It wasn’t until after the funeral when their house was full of people Stiles didn’t know that he broke down again. He changed from his suit his dad had him wear into his play clothes and went out the backdoor without being noticed. Nobody was going to question the fact that he needed some alone time. He made his way behind the house where he was sure no one would see and changed into a husky puppy and ran.

He thought he was just mindlessly running but before he knew it his paws carried him back to the cemetery. He’d walked on shaky, tired legs to where they’d just buried his mother hours before. There’s no headstone yet, won’t be for at least another week but the fresh sod has a temporary marker sign next to it. Plus, Stiles figures he’s not likely to forget the spot any time soon anyway.

His legs give out and he thought it would hurt less. He thought- if he took another shape the pain wouldn’t be so bad. He was wrong. Even though he’s a puppy it doesn’t stop his tears. He just collapses and cries until he falls asleep. He wakes up groggy and doesn’t really wake up all the way. He sees someone in a deputy uniform and doesn’t fight when his eyes drift closed again as arms pick him up and carry him away.

As if it could get any worse it’s not his dad that picked him up.

He actually ended up at Deaton’s for an entire day and a half before his dad found him and took him home. That was the last time he shifted. It wasn’t like his mom could relate and they shifted together and that’s why doing it without her felt wrong it’s just. She was always there. He spent all his time with his mom because his dad put in so many hours trying to work towards becoming sheriff one day. So not having her around just meant that he had to find other ways to spend his time. He had to find a way that wasn’t turning himself into a fox or a dog to wear off his energy.

It’s not like he has an itch under his skin to take on a different form. He doesn’t have a need to be tricky and cause trouble like a kitsune. He isn’t guided or strengthened by the moon like werewolves. And he definitely doesn’t have a master to perform tasks for like a kanima.

He’s just a person, a person who can take any shape he wants. But being any other type of creature didn’t change the hurt. Didn’t make the grief go away.

Later that year he’d talk to Scott more at school and start hanging out with him when their parents would both be working late or overnight shifts. Stiles spent the next few years leaning on Scott to help with his panic attacks and Stiles would help Scott with his asthma attacks and his homework.

By middle school they were inseparable. Invisible to the general populous that made up their school but friends nonetheless.

Then high school happened and Scott got tired of being a nobody. And just when he thought to do something about it he goes and gets bitten by a werewolf. And their lives change all over again.

***

When Stiles went back out to the woods with Scott to look for his inhaler he wasn’t expecting to run in to anyone out there. There was something off about Derek, Stiles thought. Later that night after the disaster that was Scott at lacrosse practice he went back to the spot they’d been earlier in the day and for the first time in years he shifted.

He thought about how well the K-9 unit could track people and Stiles had spent summers with the German Shepherds that made up the Beacon Hills K-9 unit. He thought it might be hard to shift now that he hasn’t done it in so long. But after he undresses and leaves his clothes folded in a pile he simply thinks about being a German Shepherd and he’s suddenly a few feet shorter and standing on four legs instead of two.

Stiles takes a minute to move around a little and stretch his newest configuration of muscles. He hops around in the leaves reveling in the feeling of getting to play in this form once again. He trots over to where Derek had been standing and sniffs around trying to get a good hit of his scent even though it’s been hours since Derek was actually there.

He smells something that’s like a breath of fresh air tinged with ash, he smells city and forest, confusion and fear. It’s all a contradiction and Stiles can see how it fits Derek. Stiles follows his nose after easily finding a trail and before he knows it he’s at the Hale house. He lopes around the house trying to figure out if Derek is in there. He really hopes Derek isn’t living in the burnt remains of his childhood home. He circles around once more and finds another trail leading away from the house.

Further into the woods where the trees get thicker Stiles follows the trail until he comes upon another clearing, this time, with a cabin sitting in the middle. He slinks around the edge of the clearing checking out the place. It’s not as big a house as the main Hale house was but this ‘cabin’ is still nearly as big as Stiles’ own house. It’s only one floor but it’s sprawling with a covered porch on three sides.

Stiles can see there’s lights on in what has to be the kitchen and Stiles sees a shadow cross the window and knows that at least Derek is in there. He stays in the shadows and circles around the house once again just to see if he can smell anyone that isn’t Derek. Just before he’s about to leave the back door swings open and Stiles crouches low. He watches Derek look out the back door, eyes glowing blue as he looks out into the forest behind his house.

Stiles doesn’t know exactly what he looks like in his shape but he’s grateful that Shepherds in general are dark because he’s really hoping he blends in with the bush he’s currently crouched next to. He closes his eyes just in case Derek catches a glare off them and waits until he hears the door close to open them again. He sees Derek pass by the window in the kitchen one more time and knows it’s safe to try and leave.  

It’s stupid how easy it is to follow his own trail back to his clothes and shift back. He can’t believe he waited so long to try and change into anything. He finally feels like he could sleep the night through without having to fight to fall asleep. The drive home is a battle to keep his eyes open but he makes it and gets in to an empty house. He has enough presence of mind to get the doors locked behind him, because who knows when his dad will be home, before he collapses in his bed.

The next morning he wakes up wide awake about an hour before he needs to be up for school. It’s one of those mornings where his body has decided he’s slept enough and doesn’t need to go back to sleep. He tries for ten minutes to go back to sleep but gives up and flops down in front of his computer. He makes sure all his homework is done and printed off since he didn’t get the chance last night. Of course, it’s all done and already in his backpack.

He’s closing out the windows on his screen when he notices his webcam is open. Suddenly he gets an idea. He gets up and closes his bedroom door and strips off his clothes on his way back to his computer. He pushes the self-timer button, sets it to take a few pictures and shifts. He doesn’t think about anything specific just like last night. He props his head on the arm of his chair and watches the pictures flash on the screen. When the little light stops flashing he shifts back and gets dressed for school. A quick check of the time and he flies down the stairs to grab breakfast before he’s late for school.

It’s a couple days before he has the time or thought to actually look at them. And when he does, he has to sigh in relief because there is very little chance Derek saw him in the woods that night. He hardly has any light spots anywhere. And he has to admit, he is pretty cute as a German Shepherd.

***

After the circus running around trying to figure out just who the alpha was and then the disaster of the dance, Stiles was mildly relieved that Peter Hale was dead. He had thought that putting Peter in the ground would mean things would calm down at least a little. He didn't account for Gerard Argent showing up and going on a reign of revenge fueled terror. He also didn't account for the kanima either.

He should have been expecting it to happen if he's being honest with himself. Between his first few go-rounds of paralysis and watching people die in front of him, not to mention his friends being targeted by Derek briefly, his stress levels continued to rise.

The first time he woke up in a shape decidedly not human he'd turned into a fox sometime during the night. Luckily sleepovers with Scott are on hold until their lives get back in order and it's not like anyone randomly stops by his room. That time with Derek and the window was just the once and Stiles made the rule that if Derek needed something he could use his phone instead of Stiles' window.

So he did nothing to curb his body's urges to change into something more defendable than a human body while he slept. Which is exactly how he's almost found out.

Stiles blinks himself awake and takes in the scene in front of him. It's not his usual view of his room, he seems to be higher up, like, as if he's standing on his bed. He looks up and sure enough that's Derek standing there looking around the room tentatively.

Stiles stands to say good morning and realizes- oh. He's, he is definitely a bird and sitting perched on his headboard. He chirps in surprise and Derek looks up like he's noticing him for the first time. He watches Derek try to smother a smile but when he realizes no one is there to see it anyway let's it show on his face. Stiles chirps again but this time it's in amusement.

Derek is not bad looking when he smiles.

He's actually kind of- breathtaking.

Stiles watches him pull his phone from his pocket and presumably call Stiles' phone. He thanks whoever is listening that his phone is off. Like, completely off. And he knows that Derek's call got sent right to voice mail.

Derek looks back up at Stiles and as he steps towards him he reaches out slowly when Stiles doesn't react.

"Stiles, where are you? I need to tell you something."

Derek slowly pushes a single finger softly into Stiles' feathery chest and Stiles chirps as he hops away a little bit. He does his best to glare when Derek smiles again but that just pulls a huff of laughter from him and Stiles is _amazed_.

"And you need to close your window. You have a bird in your room."

Derek ends the call but continues to mutter to himself.

"The grumpiest looking bird in existence."

Stiles wants to protest because of the two people in the room who is the sourwolf? Not Stiles. That's for sure. But since he a) can't talk and b) doesn't actually know what he looks like right now, he does nothing but wait for Derek to leave and shift back. But Derek doesn’t leave before he raises his phone again and Stiles hears the false shutter sound as his phone takes a picture. Stiles would be upset but Derek is still smiling and Stiles wants to know what he looks like as a ‘grumpy bird’ anyway. Derek leaves then through the window and Stiles sees his chance to explain his absence.

He takes a deep breath and hops off the headboard; he falls for a moment before he’s _flying_. He’s a little bird and his wings are tiny but he gets himself outside into a tree and for the first time he shifts from one animal to another without shifting to a human in between. He lands on the branch and just thinks about being a squirrel and then he’s scurrying down the branch towards the trunk. A moment later he’s running and shifting again into a fox and running faster away into the forest. He goes for a short run before he winds up back in his backyard.

He needs thumbs to get into the back door so he shifts quickly and gets his naked behind inside and into the shower as quickly as he can. By the time he walks into his room with a towel wrapped around his waist Derek is back. Whatever it is Derek has to tell him must be important.

“What’s up, Derek?” he asks as he goes to his dresser to grab a clean pair of boxer briefs and slips them on underneath the towel.

“Where were you this morning?”

Derek’s tone is both frustrated and exhausted at the same time and Stiles is glad he can at least tell the truth. He grabs a pair of jeans and tugs them on and once they’re buttoned in place he drags the towel over his hair.

“I was out running, did you need something?”

He’s expecting another question about the kanima or something. He’s not expecting to have his stomach drop when Derek tells him the latest.

“Peter’s alive and Victoria Argent is dead.”

***

After the last 48 hours Stiles has lived through he’s fairly confident that he deserves a minor breakdown. He had to go from the anxiety of actually playing the game fade into the adrenaline of finally getting his shit together and playing like he can when he’s not thinking too hard. He got to revel in the joy of winning for about thirty seconds before the lights went out on the field, there was a hand over his mouth and he was once again being dragged away by one of Gerard’s cronies.

His time in the Argent basement was traumatizing to say the least. He knew Argent would be spry for an old man but he was strong too. Stiles doesn’t doubt that he could have been the one to tie up Boyd and Erica himself either. 

But the worst part had to have been going home to find his dad standing tense in his bedroom. Looking for all the world like he didn't know what he was supposed to do next. He hasn’t seen his dad look so lost since his mom was dying. It’s a relief to let his dad pull him in and hold him safe in his arms. For all that Stiles has felt under attack these past few weeks it all crashes down on him now that he realizes he’s safe.

The moment is broken eventually and his dad leaves him to shower and change which is a pain with bruised ribs. After Lydia stops by it feels like he is once again thrown into being the person who helps take care of everyone and make sure they’re all going to live through the day. So he pulls himself up off his bed once more and goes to help Lydia get her boyfriend back. Jackson rises from the dead, Gerard goes down in a puddle of black goo and Boyd and Erica are returned to their alpha.

He goes home that night after making sure everyone had a place to go home to and once he collapsed on his bed yet again he realized that no one even noticed he was bruised and beaten. He thinks he’s pretty much all okay. He gets a few days of ‘normal’ before he gets a text from Erica of all people.

“Derek’s leaving town.”

The short message, with no context or explanation, inexplicably makes him panic. It’s not a panic attack type panic just an overwhelming sense of stress bearing down on his shoulders. He doesn’t really remember shifting he just knows he wakes up curled up on his dad’s lap, given the fact that he’s purring, he’s willing to bet he’s a cat. He blinks his eyes open and looks at his dad.

“You’re going to have to tell me what kind of cat this is because I will have to say, it’s quite impressive looking.”

Stiles nods and uncurls himself before he stretches out his muscles and his dad lets him trot away to find some clothes. He comes back down the stairs fully human and dressed in sweats and a Henley. He doesn’t hesitate to curl right up next to his dad again because it’s all just too much to bear alone anymore. He wants his dad back.

It comes in starts and stops. And it’s filled with apologies. But it all comes out as they sit there on the couch. He finally gets to tell his dad about the fact that he’s been running around with werewolves trying to keep them alive. He goes back to the beginning and explains every lie, every late night and every crime scene he’s been at. He tells his dad about Kate Argent. How she targeted the Hales. How he thinks she used Derek to do it. He tells him the truth about the night of the lacrosse game. How it had been a kidnapping not a simple roughing up.

His dad doesn’t let him go and he doesn’t yell. He’s angry, there’s no mistaking that. He’s not happy about having been lied to. And he’s not happy that Stiles has been hurt. At the end of all Stiles' explanations and apologies his dad only has one question.

“So what changed? What tipped you off that you stress-changed into a big fluffy cat for a few hours? It’s been years since you’ve lost control like that.”

Stiles hunches his shoulders and ducks his head because he hadn’t included the part about him shifting in his sleep.

“I, uh, got this text,” he deflects and pulls the message up on his phone. He shows his dad the text and shrugs.

“I never got any context or could ask for an explanation. I just- if he’s gone I don’t- don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing. Just the way she left it like that made it seem like he’s never coming back.”

His dad fixes him with a look.

“Or it could mean that he’s going to find his little sister.”

Stiles snaps his head up.

“Be kind, rewind.”

John rolls his eyes at his son.

“We got a call at the station asking if there were any surviving Hales from the fire six years ago. It seemed like an odd question but when I said yes, Derek was alive and in town the girl on the phone started sobbing and I just barely got her name before she was hanging up. Cora Hale has been in South America since the fire and only just heard about the possibility of survivors. I was able to tell Derek his baby sister was alive, but halfway across the world. He left to go see her.”

Stiles just nods because what do you say to that? He can’t even begin to understand how Derek must be feeling. To go from being the sole survivor of his family to having a sibling again. It’s unimaginable.

So one secret comes out but Stiles makes sure to tell his dad that while he knows about the pack, the pack still doesn’t know about him.

***

For the first time in a long time Derek is feeling pretty proud of himself. It’s been six months since they took out Gerard and his splintered, awkward pack has come together fairly well if he does say so himself. All things considered he’s rather impressed with the way the teenagers have come together and finally began to understand how the pack was supposed to work.

That’s not to say they haven’t had their rocky moments throughout.

In the beginning Derek had to leave mere days after getting Gerard taken care of because he had to go find Cora. He had always assumed that Cora was among the casualties in the house fire and that after Laura and Peter, he was the last of his family. Having Peter come back from the dead was more frustrating than anything. But having the sheriff call him to tell him his baby sister called inquiring about him had Derek nearly collapsing in relief. It was impossible for him to not fly halfway across the world to see her. But for as much as he wanted to go he wanted to stay with his newly reformed pack. He didn’t think they’d recover if they felt at all like he was abandoning them but Erica just punched him in the shoulder when he started to voice his worries and told him they would be fine for the weekend.

The first visit to see Cora in South America was long and trying even on his werewolf endurance. The flights alone took most of one day so he only got to spend just over 24 hours with his sister before he had to get back on a plane and fly back to California. But it was enough to get her phone number and her skype username before he had to leave.

A month in to building the pack they had some issues as well. Derek was working on building a new house for the pack. He had the old house torn down and the basement filled in before they started laying the foundation for a new house in the same clearing. The problem came when he asked for input from the pack and Stiles had the foolish idea that that didn’t mean him.

Derek was a little insulted and his betas were downright upset. Scott of all people was the one to explain that Stiles had made a place for himself in the pack when he held Erica through her seizure and when he held Derek up in the pool for hours on end and when he helped with detaining the kanima at the rave.

After that they only had to deal with minor hiccups in the grand scheme of things. Stiles asked for a window seat at least somewhere in the house, Boyd asked for a workout room in the basement and Erica requested dressing room levels of lighting in her bathroom. All things Derek was happy to include in his plans for the house. It took all summer for construction to be completed but then the teenagers started their junior year and they had a place to hang out after school.

A lot of growth happened in the six months after they put Gerard in a nursing home under constant watch and guard.

Derek saw his sister four times over the months but he’s just coming back from a week-long trip. His phone died a day ago and he didn’t bother charging it because it would be off for his day of flying anyway. He has a layover in Texas so he plugs his phone in and leaves it off to charge faster. So it’s not until he lands in California and actually turns his phone that he realizes they’re dealing with a ‘hiccup.’

Well, it’s more than a hiccup.

Derek would probably have to classify Stiles being missing for three days an incident. As he practically runs through the airport with his carry on calling Scott for an update, he’d have to admit to himself that it’s an emergency and he’s freaking out.

Apparently the combination of Scott spending the weekend with Allison, Sheriff Stilinski working nights, and Derek being out of the country meant nobody noticed that Stiles hadn’t contacted any of them for three days.

 Derek fully breaks into a run once he’s outside the airport and sprints to his car. He tosses the bag into the back seat and tries to get out of the parking lots as fast as possible. Scott never answered his phone so once he’s speeding away from the airport across town he tries calling the sheriff. It rings twice before he picks up. John doesn’t waste time with a greeting.

“Derek, thank God. We’re at the station, how soon can you get here?”

Derek just speeds up and passes the car in front of him. He’s speeding but he figures John will forgive him if he gets caught.

“I can be there in 10 minutes. What do we know?”

He can hear John shake his head in the pause before he answers.

“It’ll be easier to explain once you’re here.”

Derek doesn’t want to wait. He wants to know where his beta is. They exchange goodbyes and he gets back to focusing on the road. He makes it to the station in eight minutes flat. He doesn’t bother stopping at the front desk, just walks straight to John’s office. The pack are all there around his desk. He’s happy to see them all there just a little frustrated that it took three whole days for them all to notice Stiles is missing.

Given the way the werewolves in the room flinch when he walks in he figures they’ve caught on that he’s more than a little frustrated.

“What do we know?” he growls.

“Stiles hasn’t answered his phone or contacted anyone since I last saw him Thursday afternoon before I started night shifts. We don’t- the wolves can’t get a good read on his scent because it’s too faded and he’s all over the town. We put out an APB on the Jeep and found it locked and empty in the grocery store parking lot.”

“I found the keys in the gas cap but we have no idea what that indicates.” Scott adds but John pointedly looks at the map. Like he might know what finding the jeep locked with its keys means.

Erica explains how they’ve been conducting the search and how they’re all going to keep looking for a few more hours until they can get any ideas on just what is going on. There were no unexplained hunters, there were no transient betas or omegas, no threats or ransom calls. For all the pack knows, Stiles could be on a research binge somewhere and is totally fine. But Derek can’t get over the niggling feeling in the back of his head that something is wrong.

Stiles might not be in direct danger but he’s still missing and they don’t have the first idea where to start looking. And as much as he wants to ask John, in private, just what he thinks is happening he wants to get to the jeep and see what scents he can pick up and follow more. They adjourn with the plan to keep looking the rest of the evening and meet up again in the morning to try and figure _something_ out.

Derek is back in his car soon enough, his disappointment in his pack evident when he leaves without a word to any of them. He forces himself to drive the speed limit to where he knows the jeep is sitting in a busy parking lot. He parks right next to it and lets himself sit there and breath and think for the first time since he read Scott’s message.

The parking lot is quiet right now though, so he doesn’t have to worry about concealing his eyes when he stands out of his car and starts to pick apart what he can smell and sense. He can still smell Stiles but it is far too faint to get any read on direction. The part that worries Derek is he can still smell the fear Stiles was exuding. He peeks in the back window and sees Stiles backpack and his hoodie on the passenger seat.

By the time he’s driving up through the woods to his house it’s almost four in the morning. He texts Scott to meet and plan without him if he sleeps through his alarm. It’s not that his nerves wouldn’t keep him awake but he’s already been pushing the limit of his stamina with the last few days with Cora and flying back. He’s been awake and alert for too many hours compared to how many he’s had asleep. His only plan is to drink a Gatorade and eat some beef jerky before he collapses on his bed.

He shuffles up the steps and pulls his house key up to let himself in the front door but stops short. Lydia had insisted on decorating both the interior and the exterior of his house. He never liked the stupid, oversized vases that sit on either side of his front door so it just adds to his irritation that he has to deal with them now. They’re both tipped over and the weights that were in the bottom to prevent them from moving are strewn across his deck. It’s a mess and one he doesn’t want to deal with. He kicks them aside and startles when he hears a whimper emerge from within one.

Now that he focuses he can hear a heart beating rapidly in what Derek would assume is fear. He expects to find a bunny or maybe a squirrel. He is not expecting to peer into the vase and find a terrified looking fox. He falls backwards from his crouch onto his ass when the creature launches itself at him and curls up on his chest. The creature is shaking and trembling and distressed little whines leave its throat in a steady stream. Derek doesn’t want to deal with this right now and he really doesn’t understand what’s happening. He's tired and hungry and worried and tense and he really just wants his bed and to magically have a way to find Stiles.

By all accounts he’s a predator. He does not attract wild animals whatever Disney princess fantasies Stiles likes to spin. He’s an alpha werewolf and he doesn’t have time to play animal doctor right now. He goes to ease the creature off his chest and to the deck slowly enough that he succeeds in detaching it from him so he can stand. The fox doesn’t move from where Derek sets it; it crouches and trembles in place still sounding distressed and heart still fluttering. Derek is torn from wanting to care and wanting to get some sleep. It takes effort to turn to the front door and open it. Even his supernatural reflexes fail him when as soon as the door opens the fox darts inside.

Derek sighs and gives up the idea of crawling in his bed any time soon. He walks in his house and closes the door behind himself. He follows the sound of claws on hardwood and the still rapidly beating heart to one of the bedrooms on the second floor. He drops his bag in the hallway and leaves it as he eases into the room moving slowly towards the creature. He finds the red fox in a sweatshirt Isaac left on the floor in the corner of the room. He’s too tired to think about why a wild animal would be behaving like this in favor of disentangling him from the sweatshirt and trying to assess its condition. Its fur is matted and dirty, there’s a scrape across his front shoulder and it’s paws are torn and cut up.

It doesn’t take any effort at all to get the animal back in his arms and he carries him back downstairs to the wash room with the utility sink. He eases the fox into the sink and without thinking he’s talking to it.

“I really don’t have time for this, buddy,” he murmurs as he starts the warm water in the sink. “I have a beta to find.” He turns and grabs an old towel and wash cloth from the closet next to the sink. The fox hasn’t moved and Derek should really be worried about the docile behavior but he just wants to get the bath over with and go to bed. The poor animal is still afraid of something and sits trembling in the sink while Derek runs a warm, soapy cloth over its fur.

It gives Derek a moment to examine the creature again. Its fur is a vibrant red all along its back and body but the color fades into a brownish red on its hind legs and tail. Its dainty head is a softer red with white on its chin and cheeks and the faintest line of black on the front of its ears while the backs are covered. Derek is careful around the scrape on its foreleg and marvels at how black the soft fur on its legs is.

“He’s not actually a werewolf, you see, so I worry about the trouble he gets himself in to. I know he’s fairly competent in taking care of himself but…” Derek shrugs and rinses the soap off the fox with fresh warm water. “I’m his alpha. It’s my job to worry and watch out for him.”

He grabs the towel and wraps the fox in it as he lifts him out of the sink. The whimpers have stopped and Derek just goes with his instinct to pull the creature against his chest and rubs the towel over the fox’s back and sides.

“I don’t know how to start looking for him though. There were no threats, no new people in town. How are we supposed to just _know_ where to start looking?”

He keeps the fox cradled against his chest with one arm as he walks back up the stairs towards his room. Grabbing his bag, he walks the rest of the way down the hall to his room and closes the door behind him. The fox startles and Derek notices that he’d stopped trembling. He drops his bag at the foot of his bed and uses his free hand to pull his phone out of his pocket and plug it in on his nightstand.

“He’s always been hard to track, too. I don’t know why, though. I haven’t ever been able to understand it. And it’s not like I could ask Deaton.”

He shucks out of his jeans with difficulty using just his one hand and crawls into his bed.

“That man would say, ‘pink’ if asked what color the sky was. I _should_ probably take you to see him. You shouldn’t be acting like this. And it wouldn’t be the first time I showed up with a wild animal. When I was…growing up if I found anything in the forest that was hurt or sick I, I’d bring it home and my mom would help me wrap them up in a towel, like this,” he slowly explains.

He pauses to look down at the fox who’s decided Derek’s collarbone would be the most comfortable place to tuck his muzzle into. The creature’s eyes flick up and meets Derek’s gaze when he tucks his chin to look down.

“Yeah, so maybe I’ve done this before. And maybe I should take you to Deaton. But right now?”

He shuffles down on his pillows carefully and shifts the fox to the bed next to him.

“Right now we are sleeping.”

Derek’s eyes close and he misses the fox’s head nod slightly and curl in closer. Derek curls his body around the fox and leaves a hand resting on its back. It’s a testament to how tired he really is that he falls asleep instantly.

**

Predictably, Derek sleeps through his alarm. He blinks himself awake and knows by how bright it is in his room that it’s already late morning or close to noon. He’d shifted onto his back in the night but the fox moved as well. He’s all curled up in a ball with his nose buried in his soft, fluffy tail on Derek’s chest. He hasn’t woken up yet and rises and falls as Derek breathes. He reaches for his phone trying not to disturb the fox. His screen lights up and he was right. It’s 11:30. He slept through calls and texts from Scott and the Sheriff. They all met this morning as planned and are all out searching. He shifts around on the bed a little trying to keep the fox asleep and calm as long as he can. After reading the texts he calls the sheriff. It rings almost to the point where he thinks he’s not going to answer.

“Hello?” John greets quickly.

“John? It’s Derek. What’s the latest?”

“The pack are all out looking in anyplace he could be holed up researching and Boyd and Isaac have started looking through the Preserve. How soon can you join them?”

Derek looks down at the animal resting on top of him and see’s he is awake now and staring at the phone.

“I, uh, need to stop by Deaton’s first.”

“Why?” he asks hurriedly.

“Uh, well, I have a fox in my house that bolted inside last night and I only got him to calm down if he stayed with me.”

All the sounds of John’s movements in his office stop.

“Did you say fox? Like a red fox? Not a husky?”

“No…” he answers, bewildered. “It’s not a husky, it’s a mostly bright red fox.”

“Oh geez, this is not how he wanted you guys to find out,” John mutters and Derek’s brain starts piecing things together.

He looks down at the fox with wide eyes and finds it staring at him the same way. He blinks and the fox darts off his chest and runs out of the room. He comes back to the phone call when he hears John talking still.

“Derek? You there?”

“Uh, yeah. Are you going to tell me that the fox is Stiles? How is that possible?”

Derek asks, still very confused and John sighs over the line.

“I don’t have time to explain everything but, yes, he’s a shifter. He got it from his mother’s side of the family. He can take any shape he wants and retains his mental faculties regardless. Which means I have no idea why he’s stayed a fox for four whole days. And right now I can’t leave the office because we’re short too many people. Just, just talk to him and he’ll need some clothes and I’ll come over as soon as I can get a replacement in. I’ll even call the pack and tell them to stop looking but to give you some space until we get him back.”

Derek balks because how is he supposed to talk Stiles back? He’s awful at talking normally.

“Sir, wouldn’t Scott be better?”

“Derek, he went to you. I’m sure at this point, now that he’s not alone and gotten some sleep, he’s probably just worried about your reaction. That, and shifting back naked. Now I have to go but just, don’t think about it too hard. You’ll be fine.”

And with that he hangs up on Derek leaving him to deal with his son. Great. He leaves his phone on the bed and drags himself to the bathroom. After changing his shirt and throwing on some pants he follows the sound of the fox’s heartbeat. He finds the fox- Stiles. He finds Stiles in Stiles’ room curled up on the bed. He walks in slowly and doesn’t notice until he gets closer that Stiles is trembling again. A little hurt by that reaction Derek eases on to the bed next to him slowly leaving his feet on the floor. He doesn’t try to touch Stiles just sits leaning forward with his elbows digging in to his thighs.

“Stiles, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not mad you kept this a secret. I’m sure your mom drilled it into your head to never tell anybody. My mom did.”

He hears the bedspread rustling and then Stiles’ muzzle and front paw are resting on Derek’s leg. Derek looks down and meets Stiles’ gaze.

“What happened? Are you- are you stuck like that?”

Stiles shakes his head slowly.

“Then can you change back? Please? I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He watches Stiles hesitate and then stand up and walk carefully to the head of the bed. It takes Derek a minute to figure out why he’s trying to burrow into the blanket before he remembers. He rushes back to his room and grabs some clothes. By the time he gets back to Stiles' room a human shaped Stiles is the one lying in bed with the blanket tucked up under his chin. Derek tosses the clothes on the bed and turns around again.

“I’ll just be outside the door.”

He listens to the sounds of the blankets and sheets fold back and Stiles pull the sweats and t-shirt on quickly. Once he hears Stiles sit on the bed again he enters the room once again.

“Hey,” Stiles says weakly, his voice is horse from disuse.

He’s lying on the bed propped up against the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him. Derek wants little more than to pull Stiles to him and take comfort in the fact that he is safe. He doesn’t though, choosing to walk slowly towards the bed and stand next to it uncertain.

“Hi.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at him and pats the bed next to him. Derek doesn’t hesitate to accept the invitation for what it is and gets on the bed sitting next to Stiles mirroring his position. He leaves a good six inches between them until Stiles grumbles and shuffles over. He lifts Derek’s arm and puts it around his shoulders so he can lean in to Derek’s side and rest his head on Derek’s chest. For his own part, Derek just rolls with it. Stiles has always been the most tactile in the pack even though he’s stayed human.

Well, Derek figures that’s not really true anymore.

Once Stiles has snuggled in Derek figures he can start asking questions.

“Stiles, what _happened_?”

He holds him tighter when Stiles shudders.

“Gerard.”

Derek stiffens in surprise but before he can formulate a question Stiles continues.

“They knew. I think- the night of the dance. Chris cornered me and Jackson at the hospital. Just, he looked at me funny that night and then.” He swallows. “The uh, the night of the game I didn’t get beat up by the other team. Gerard grabbed me off the field and during his, interrogation methods, he probably figured it out. I was in getting groceries when they cornered me.”

“Who did?”

“The same guys that grabbed me off the field.”

Stiles has shifted so he’s on his side pressed up all along Derek’s and he has a hand gripping the front of Derek’s t-shirt. So Derek wraps his other arm around Stiles’ shoulders and holds him tighter.

“They threatened you?”

Stiles nods.

“I panicked. I’ve shifted because of stress before but never out of sheer raw panic. And once I started running I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t get myself to calm down long enough to try and shift back.”

“Were you in that vase the whole time?” Stiles nods again. “It’s been _days_ Stiles, no one knew how to find you.”

“M’sorry.” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s chest. He can sense and smell the embarrassment coming from Stiles. But that wasn’t his intention.

“No, don’t apologize.” He drops a light kiss to Stiles’ hair. “You don’t have to be sorry, I just, we were worried. We’ll deal with Gerard now that he’s back making threats; I’m sure Chris won’t be thrilled to hear about it and will help.”

It's probably too little of an effort but holding Stiles and offering reassurances that the pack is there to protect him is what Derek can do right now to try and make things better.

***

Stiles is so ungodly tired and sore. Laying curled up in a defensive position as a fox in a vase for three and a half days will do that to a person apparently. But then Derek finally found him and even if he didn’t know it was him in fox form Stiles got comforted anyway. Derek washed him off, treated his little scrapes and Stiles was basically putty by the time Derek got them on the bed. Waking up on Derek’s chest was a new experience that was a little eye opening. He would have had more time to enjoy the feeling and ruminate on it if he hadn’t overheard his dad out his secret on the phone. So he bolted. Can you blame him? He’s kept this secret with just his parents and Deaton for over a decade. It’s hard to shift your world view that fast. But Derek had sounded so hurt when he thought Stiles was afraid of him and he just couldn’t let that stand.

His ridiculous explanation aside, it got him wrapped up in Derek’s arms so he gets over the embarrassment pretty quickly. After hearing that Derek will go to bat for him against the Argent patriarch even now, Stiles is ready to either fall back asleep or eat through whatever is in Derek’s fridge.

Then Derek shifts them around again as if he can sense Stiles’ remaining fatigue and whispers, “You’re safe. I’m going to keep you safe, Stiles.”

At his quiet reassurance Stiles goes boneless in his hold as the last sliver of tension dissolves. It’s just too easy to be held in Derek’s arms and take comfort from his hands running up and down his spine. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know where to start. He gets lucky and Derek starts the questions. But only after a few moments of silence and twitching.

“So…” he starts awkwardly. “You’re a shapeshifter?”

Stiles snorts into Derek’s chest and backs off a little from where he was quite firmly snuggled against him. He gives Derek a wry look for his trouble and Derek’s innocent look in response is priceless.

“How ever did you guess that?” Stiles responds, deadpan. “Yes, Derek I’m a shape shifter. Aren’t you going to ask why I didn’t tell you?”

Derek shrugs. He probably already knows the answer to that question anyway.

“I’m more interested in who all knows.”

Stiles shakes his head softly. Like Derek is the only person he never told. Like half the town knows Stiles sometimes runs around as a dog but his alpha is the person who Stiles didn’t tell.

“Nobody, nobody but my Dad, Derek,” he assures him. “I’ve never told anybody. Not even Scott knows.”

“Really?”

Derek’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline like it’s honestly that shocking. But Stiles gets it. How could Scott not know?

“Really,” Stiles sighs. Because not being able to tell his best friend in the whole wide world has been one of the hardest things ever. He pauses for a beat. “The only people that know are yours truly, my dad and Deaton.”

“Ok but _why?_ Especially when he got bit and this whole mess started happening and you knew other supernatural creatures?”

Stiles just shrugs and avoids looking at Derek. He can’t really explain except for having distinct memories of his mother demanding he never tell anyone what he is. And knowing there were supernatural creatures in town didn’t make it that much of a change when he found out just who they all were. But it’s a little bit because he knows deep down that it doesn’t change how the pack sees him. Or what he contributes to the pack. But Derek well and truly is his alpha, if his running and hiding at his house didn’t already prove it, and he should be able to voice his insecurities to Derek. His alpha and his friend. So it comes out kind of quiet and unsure and he hates how it sounds.

“Didn’t really change anything. I can’t heal like you guys can, I’m not more of an asset to the pack because I can turn in to other things. Whether I’m human or a wolf a bullet is still going to hurt or kill me.”

Derek sighs like Stiles is ridiculous. Maybe he is being ridiculous but Stiles still has a right to be unsure of himself. It’s practically a requirement of being a teenager that you have self-esteem issues. Derek doesn’t seem too offended though but when he opens his mouth to no doubt offer some reassurances, both their stomachs growl, loudly and angrily. Stiles quirks a smile at him and has to stop his thoughts when Derek smiles back.

Because if he lets those thoughts form they’d say something dangerously close to how attractive it makes Derek. And he doesn’t need to deal with that, the other secret he’s been keeping these last few weeks, coming out into the open as well.

The fond look Derek gives him makes something flutter low in his tummy and he doesn’t want to think about it too much just yet.

“What should we eat?” Derek asks with a smile. Like they weren’t about to delve into Stiles insecurities and his place in the pack. It’s one of the things that surprised Stiles at first and sometimes still does; Derek’s ability to skirt around awkward topics in conversation when necessary but always able to circle back around if it’s something truly important.

Stiles bumps his shoulder into Derek’s as they amble down the stairs. Still enjoying the comfort of Derek’s presence and touch and unwilling to give it up just yet.

“I’m so hungry. I’ll eat anything. Everything. God, I finally understand the phrase I could eat a horse.”

They’re in the kitchen with Derek’s head buried in the fridge and Stiles looking through the pantry. Derek looks up and laughs before he gets a questioning look on his face. Stiles would guess he hears something outside in the woods.

“Well, it’s not a horse but there is a deer roaming around out there…” he trails off.

It takes Stiles a moment before he turns around and figures it out.

“Do you want to go hunt down the deer?”

Derek shrugs and shifts. Stiles narrows his eyes because why is Derek acting nervous all of a sudden.

“We- technically we both can be wolves. We could-“ he stops and shakes his head. “No, never mind. Dumb idea. Want me to call and get a pizza delivered? Or three?”

He’s already pulling his phone out of his pocket when Stiles strides over and grabs his wrist lightly to stop him. Derek sags a little and Stiles lets go after a moment.

“I can turn into a wolf, yes. I’ve only ever hunted rabbits though.”

“My- my mom could turn into a full wolf. We’d follow in our beta shifts and she taught us to hunt like that. I haven’t.”

Stiles gives him a moment when he takes a big breath in and holds it before huffing it back out.

“Cora’s pack in South America helped me on the last trip. I haven’t done it more than twice and I haven’t told the betas. We don’t have to I just thought-“

“My secret came out so you thought you’d share yours?” Stiles guesses.

Derek just nods and Stiles thinks about it. Thinks about what it would mean to Derek to shift into a wolf and have company like that. The decision all but makes itself and he’s nodding and stripping off his t-shirt a moment later.

“Let’s do it.”

**

Hours later, Stiles is curled up with Derek on the front porch, both still in wolf form. Before they’d left the house Stiles texted his dad that he was fine and that he and Derek were getting some food before the pack came over. And Derek texted the pack that Stiles was indeed okay but they should wait until later in the evening to stop by for any explanations.

After that it was a few minutes of adjusting to four paws instead of two legs and they were off. Stiles had nothing to compare the feeling of running through the woods following his alpha and the scent of a deer to. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Derek did most of the work both tracking and in taking the animal down. But they both gorged themselves and ate until they were stuffed.

After they were both satisfied they started back towards the house with bloodied muzzles and paws. It was one thing to chase rabbits and the first time he caught one he was halfway through eating it before his own human instincts kicked back in. But running with Derek and feeling the adrenaline of the hunt had him almost excited to enjoy the meal. He couldn’t really put it into words but he wasn’t repulsed like one would think a mostly-human creature would be.

When they got back to the house, they collapsed together. It took a moment of fidgeting and slow advances before Stiles felt Derek lick tentatively at his muzzle. Stiles froze and Derek continued. After it became apparent that Derek had him cleaned he returned the favor just as cautiously. They tired themselves out just lying on the porch, grooming each other until they fell asleep curled around each other.

 

The next time Stiles wakes up the pack is there standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the porch and they’re all staring.

So he still has to explain himself to the pack. And they need to deal with Gerard. And Derek will probably tell him about how he’s more important to the pack than he thinks.

But as Stiles stands up still shaped like a wolf, stares at the gob smacked expressions on the pack’s faces, and feels Derek sidle up right next to him he can’t help but breathe easy.

Because he may have gotten some interesting genes from his mom’s side of the family.

But having Derek at his back and the pack in front of them he knows he wouldn’t trade the family he built himself for anything.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the inspiration behind this fic:  
> [Kitten](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/100193119118/)  
> [Fox w/ Mama Stilinski](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/114343481621/)  
> [Husky Puppy](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/109157827008/)  
> [German Shepherd](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/102586937498/)  
> [Bird](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/109141881255/)  
> [Cat w/ his dad](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/110471617673/)  
> [Fox w/ Derek](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/116422037019/)  
> [Stiles/Derek as Wolves](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/post/106028020835/)


	2. Ruined Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not what Stiles expected to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was going to be a short bonus chapter turned into a continuation of the first part of this story that's basically the same length! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy round two of shifter!Stiles :D

After the big reveal, Stiles felt more like pack than he ever had before. Something about the relief on his friends faces when he emerged from his bedroom after shifting back and getting dressed was a comfort Stiles hadn’t anticipated. Stiles’ overwhelming relief came when Scott wrapped him in a hug, more upset over Stiles having been missing than upset that Stiles had kept such a huge secret from him.

Coming out to the pack about also being a supernatural creature wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Stiles had imagined it being.

Gerard, as it turned out, had been bluffing. Stiles, Derek and Allison had gone to see her dad about it all a few days after Stiles was found. Chris had ushered them into the house towards the dining room. Stiles was surprised when Allison chose to sit next to him and Derek, leaving her dad alone on the other side of the table. It made it very apparent whose side she was on. Stiles sat in the middle and Allison grabbed his hand while Derek laid a warm, comforting hand on his thigh. The small gestures went a long way in making him confident enough to tell Chris exactly what happened.

Stiles couldn’t help the relief that flooded his system when Chris not only believed him but was appalled at his father’s threats. For the extreme level of panic that the whole ordeal started with, the solution was swift and effective.

On the edge of death, Gerard had wanted to make one last play, one last act of aggression against the pack he couldn’t eradicate from his hometown. Chris arranged with the hospital nurses that Gerard was to have no visitors outside of himself and he was to have no means of communication other than to have the nurse call Chris and Chris alone.

It was only a couple weeks later and Derek got a call from Chris that Gerard had finally succumbed to his illnesses. Whether he died from the bite and mountain ash combination or the cancer the doctors don’t know, but Chris tried his best to assure Derek that he was in no way at fault. 

If anything, the feelings dealing with Gerard again drug up were the worst part of the situation. Derek’s feelings of betrayal, of being used once again by someone. Scott’s shame at his actions and his words; how he had been so foolishly determined to stay out of Derek’s pack. 

Stiles had no issues in siding with Derek in the situation because he had never understood Scott’s plan or his refusal to trust Derek. Yeah, Stiles had been wary at first too, but once his head had stopped spinning in reaction to his best friend joining the supernatural world, he’d been a little more willing to try and trust the last remaining Hale. Of course, a healthy amount of research into Derek's background and their further interactions had done a lot for that trust to be built too.  

After everything calmed down with that though, the pack really got the chance to react to Stiles’ 'coming out'. And by chance, he means they sat him down and asked him question after question about himself. 

"Are you a werewolf?"

"What all can you shift into?"

"Can you shift your face around like Tonks in Harry Potter?"

"Do you heal like us?"

"You get sick, how does that work?"

"Can you shift into a dog?"

"Can you shift into a bird?"

"Can you shift into a lion?"

It had been a week since his freak out and Derek has been in Stiles' personal bubble constantly whenever they were together. So when the pack's slew of questions started to get overwhelming Derek had just shifted closer on the couch until they were pressed together along the length of their bodies. Stiles had tried really hard not to lean into the comfort but by the time he'd worked his way through most of his friend's most pressing questions, Stiles was completely pressed into Derek's side and tucked underneath his arm. But for as comfortable as Stiles now finds himself in being all up close and personal with Derek, neither of them have talked about it or what it means. 

*

“Please, Stiles?” Erica begs but Stiles isn’t giving into her pleading.

“No, Erica. I’m not shifting at the drop of a hat whenever you guys want. It’s not a party trick.”

She pouts and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“The last time you guys did this I shifted into like, a dozen different things in one night. I almost passed out on my drive home! I am not-“

They all hear a loud thunk in the kitchen from where Derek was doing dishes. The alpha turns away from the sink, soapy hands dripping on the floor kind of diminishing the angry look on his face.

Okay, maybe they don’t, Derek looks pretty pissed off.

“You almost  _ what _ ?”

“Um, we’re gonna-“ Isaac says as the rest of the pack starts to make their way out of the common room.

“Oh, no you’re not going anywhere. Everybody sit their butts back down,” Derek counters and the pack sheepishly returns to their seats. Derek turns his focus back on Stiles and repeats his question.

“You almost what on your way home?”

“I, uh, almost passed out? I was so tired? I kind of just hit a wall and it was a struggle to keep my eyes open until I got home.”

Luckily, Stiles’ explanation seems to have calmed the alpha a little but Stiles would be lying if the protective response wasn’t a little nice.

“New house rule,” Derek starts, “If you want to request Stiles shift into something you do it one at a time and only at our Saturday meetings. And even then if he doesn’t want to he doesn’t have to. There will be no wheedling for extra shifts. None. Am I clear?”

The pack all nod looking disappointed but Stiles knows Derek isn’t restricting him from shifting, just when the pack can ask him to shift so he’s actually more than a little relieved with the new rule. Derek looks around at everyone agreeing before he makes eye contact with Stiles again and nods before returning to the dishes.

“I call dibs on this Saturday!” Scott shouts and everybody groans.

“Let’s just watch this movie and move on with the evening, shall we?” Lydia suggests and nobody wants to argue with Scott anyway.  

*

Derek later added to the rule, that the pack could only request Stiles shift on Saturdays when they weren’t fighting with anybody. Of course, once that stipulation was added to the rule, they went on a streak of peaceful times. Stiles started counting weekends in what he was asked to shift into. He’d imagined his friends coming up with some weird things but he never anticipated the adventures that would ensue.

One weekend Lydia asked him to shift into a cat. That was fairly normal, fairly harmless. But then Lydia pulled out a feather cat toy and now the pack has about fifteen minutes of footage of Stiles chasing various things around the living room. The worst part though was at the very end, just before everyone stopped recording Lydia bopped him on the nose with the feather duster and Stiles couldn’t repress the sneezes it tickled out of him.

Stiles bolted from the room and refused to shift back until after the pack went home for the night as punishment for their uproarious laughter. When everyone left Derek sought him out, waiting patiently for Stiles to crawl out from under the bed. Stiles didn’t even get a chance to shift back before Derek was gently picking him up, carrying him back to the living room. Derek just laid down on the couch and pulled Stiles to his chest.

If Stiles had had the capabilities to shrug he might have. Instead he curled up in a circle and enjoyed Derek petting him until he fell asleep.

*

Stiles pads around, adjusting to his latest configuration of four paws and a tail. It’s Boyd’s weekend to pick something and Stiles is currently stalking circles around him watching a broad grin spread across Boyd’s face. Stiles has shifted into cats, sure, but he’s never tried shifting into a  _ big cat. _

Once the pack were all congregated and everyone agreed it was Boyd’s weekend to choose, Boyd pulled Stiles out of the house and hearing range of the pack before he told him what he wanted Stiles to shift into.

A panther.

Dark, spotted, long tail, big paws, sharp teeth.

So Stiles shifted, adjusted to the proper fangs in his mouth and started to head back towards the house.

“Wait,” Boyd says and Stiles turns around and sits on his haunches, waiting for Boyd to explain.

But Boyd just smiles and waves his phone but Stiles doesn’t understand so he cocks his head to the side and swishes his tail through the leaves a little.

“Let them find us,” Boyd explains as he does something on his phone before pocketing it.

Stiles hears the back door open and footsteps on the porch and looks to Boyd for the next part of the plan.

“Let’s run.”

Stiles snarls and takes off, following Boyd. He is  _ really _ fast like this. It’s not that different than running as a wolf with Derek but his paws are bigger as a panther, his steps landing softer and quieter than ever before. Too soon Stiles can hear the pack laughing and running behind him. Boyd darts left and Stiles goes right, knowing the pack will follow Boyd. Stiles doesn’t go far just turns to run silently alongside where Boyd and the rest are making their way towards where Stiles knows a clearing is.

At the pace they’re going it doesn’t take long and they’re all in the clearing, asking Boyd what’s going on, where Stiles is. Stiles just takes another lap around them out of sight before he finds himself crouching down getting ready to pounce. Embarrassingly, Stiles finds his butt is wiggling as he shifts his weight from foot to foot as he watches Derek.

Another burst of laughter and Stiles takes advantage of the noise to burst from his hiding spot. He nips at Derek’s calf as he runs past, enjoying the startled squawk it garners him. Stiles stops on the other side of the group and skitters to a quick stop, panting as he takes in the pack’s awed stares.

“Nice one, Boyd,” Scott enthuses and Stiles growls. “I mean, good choice. Obviously it’s all you Stiles being a…cougar?”

“Panther,” Derek corrects as he pulls off his t-shirt, giving Stiles a look that he takes to mean, “I’m gonna get you.”

Stiles jumps up and hops a little in place as Derek peels off his sweats and shifts quickly into his wolf form.

The pack just watches in exasperation as Derek takes off after Stiles, chasing him back towards the house. Scott sighs and Allison pats his shoulder in consolation.

Boyd’s a little upset though.

“Seriously? Are they 12 years old with their first crush?”

“Stiles will wait until he’s absolutely sure Derek’s being serious before he makes any more obvious overtures,” Scott says tiredly. “I just thought they’d have figured their shit out by now.”

“There’s always next week,” Lydia says with a satisfied grin.

The bet of when Stiles and Derek will admit their feelings continues.

*

Stiles hisses when the hydrogen peroxide gets in the scratches on his arm and Derek growls. He growls but from the look on his face Stiles knows he is angry with himself, not Stiles.

“God, your hand is a mess. I shouldn’t have been so rough. Stiles, I- I’m sorry,” he admits quietly and Stiles turns his hands over to hold onto Derek’s, stilling their movement.

The more Stiles shifts into other shapes the more Derek forgets he doesn’t heal like werewolves do. And right now Derek is mad at himself for that but Stiles doesn’t really mind. Derek’s not hurting him on purpose, and it’s not like he’s gotten hurt all that often. So he’s gotten a few bruises before, this is the first time Derek’s ever broken skin with his claws.

“Hey, stop beating yourself up over this. You scratched me,” Stiles shrugs, “big deal. I appreciate the apology but I’m not mad.”

Stiles pauses and waits for Derek to absorb the words.

“I’m just so tough looking when I shift the wolfy part of you sees me as equal.”

Derek huffs at that, but stops arguing.

“Still, this isn’t exactly ‘good boyfriend’ behavior.”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t bad either. Derek if it gets to really be an issue we’ll think of something to do about it. For now we just need to see how long it takes the pack to figure out we’re already dating and their pool is never going to end.”

Derek grins then and Stiles takes it as a win because all the tension melts out of his shoulders in a single instant.  

“Our pack is pretty oblivious.”

*

Even before Stiles and Derek put a label on what they were to each other they had spent basically every evening together. Derek always ran around the perimeter of his territory like he used to with his dad. But once Stiles ‘came out’ they started running it together, both shifting so they’re on four paws instead of two legs. Mainly it’s because of all that time spent together that they realized their feelings for each other were more than platonic.

Derek’s worried though because he’s smelled something weird the last few nights but hasn’t been able to place it or track it once he finds it again. Stiles is just as good as Derek is at following his nose when in wolf form so they split up the route sometimes, Derek going north and Stiles going south around the city and meeting on the other side. He’s reluctant to do it that way tonight because he’s uncomfortable not knowing for sure what’s in his woods but Stiles isn’t having it.

“Dude, I’m already tired. I have a house to clean, laundry to wash and I haven’t gotten groceries in weeks. I need to sleep tonight not spend extra time running through the woods. Please, can we just split up like we have been doing so we get done faster?” Stiles pleads, eyes wide and beseeching. 

Derek sighs but he doesn’t give in.

“If you’re that busy I’ll do it by myself. Or I’ll call Boyd he can come run it with me.”

“Hey!” Stiles says indignantly, “I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. We can still do this I just- fine. We’ll go together. I’ll just push off getting the laundry started until the morning.”

Derek’s relieved. He didn’t want Stiles off on his own with some unknown threat lurking in his woods. It doesn’t stop Stiles from grumbling a little under his breath as he strips his clothes off and puts them back in Derek’s car.

“Overprotective, worry wort alpha, doesn’t trust me to take care of myself,” Stiles mutters, the last thing he says just before he shifts and Derek’s surprised how it stings a little. He’d always thought Stiles understood. That Stiles knew Derek was  _ always _ worrying about his pack and that included Stiles. Stiles jogs off away from Derek, sleek black fur shimmering in the moonlight, seemingly impatient to get going so Derek balls up his jeans and tosses them in the car.

He shifts quickly and easily catches up to Stiles. Despite Stiles’ comments they fall into an easy rhythm together as they get going along a path that’s been worn from years of use. Derek runs as fast as he can and still be paying attention to the scents in the forest around him. Stiles does the same and after a while they pause to catch their breath. All the irritation Stiles had been feeling seems to have been left behind with the way he ducks his head and hesitantly nuzzles into Derek’s throat.

Derek lets him invade his space because he trusts Stiles, he knows it’s Stiles’ way of trying to make amends without shifting back. For someone who isn’t even a werewolf, Stiles has always had a firm grasp of wolf mannerisms.  Derek rumbles in his chest and Stiles gives the side of Derek’s mouth a quick lick before he bounds away, ready to continue.

Derek follows behind for a while before he darts off the path; it’s around here that he smelled something new the last few nights and Derek wants to see if he can find another place where it goes. He gets so caught up in following his nose that he doesn’t realize how far away he is from Stiles until he hears the sound of rope pulling across a tree branch. Derek bolts towards the sound of Stiles’ terrified barking, as he himself starts panicking. If Stiles got caught in a trap or a snare then the smell Derek’s been trying to figure out  _ has _ been hunters and Stiles is in danger. Derek runs faster than he ever has in his life, unable to think he might lose Stiles to hunters, just- he can’t lose Stiles. Not ever and not like this, not with hunters and the supernatural world being at fault.

Just as Derek bursts into the clearing to see Stiles hanging from a tree branch in an actual net trap the gunshots start in a rapid fire burst. Stiles whimpers and Derek smells the blood on the air as soon as it happens. Derek underestimated his own response. He snarls, furious that someone would hurt his Stiles, and turns to the lone hunter standing across the clearing. In another spray of bullets Derek gets hit in the flank but doesn’t hardly even register it as he charges the hunter, getting in close enough to make the gun useless in the blink of an eye.

He can smell the man’s fear and panic even as Derek knocks him to the forest floor, pinning him down by standing on his chest. Derek doesn’t even think to wait for mercy and the next thing he knows he’s sinking his teeth in soft flesh. He didn’t think he’d ever actually rip someone’s throat out but now that it’s happened he doesn’t regret it.

As quickly as he can Derek shifts back to two legs to be tall enough to cut Stiles down out of the net. He’s whining constantly and Derek’s heart is pounding too fast to break over it, the panic of losing Stiles still too very real in the moment. The whimpers and whines are just signs of life at this point and Derek hopes in everything he has that they don’t stop.

It’s awkward trying to cut Stiles down and catch him at the same time but Derek manages even as a constant stream of ‘oh god, oh god don’t be dead, don’t die, oh god,’ leaves his mouth unbidden. It feels like it takes forever to get Stiles on the ground and untangled from the net, Derek’s hands shaking with his panic. As the anger fades Derek has the overwhelming urge to cry because he can still smell Stiles’ panic and pain and  _ blood _ .

“Oh god, please don’t be dying,” Derek says as he runs his hands over Stiles’ furry body trying  to see how many times he was shot. When Derek runs his hand over Stiles’ hind leg his hand comes away sticky and Stiles flinches away from his touch. So, still shot, but only shot once and with a regular bullet not a wolfsbane one.

Every instinct is telling Derek to throw his head back and howl for his pack to come help but he doesn’t. By the time they’d get to him, Derek could be halfway to Deaton’s.

“Okay, okay this is going to hurt,” he tells Stiles before he lifts and puts him across his shoulders, carrying him with a hold on his uninjured legs. It’s not comfortable but he’ll be able to run faster if he doesn’t have Stiles in his arms. He leaves the hunter behind, he’ll call Chris to explain once Stiles has had some medical attention, and runs towards town and Deaton’s. 

*

Derek is pacing in Deaton's waiting room as he uses the man's cell phone to call his pack. The only thing keeping him from losing his shit entirely is the strong, steady heartbeat Derek can hear still coming from Stiles. Derek finds himself grateful that phone numbers have always been easy for him to remember even with cell phones that don't always require it anymore. He's waiting for Boyd to answer the phone as he listens to the dial tone. 

"Hello?" Boyd answers hesitantly. 

"Boyd, it's Derek. I'm using Deaton's phone. Please I need you to go to the entrance to the preserve with Erica and Isaac and get my car and Stiles' jeep. Take the jeep to the Stilinski's and then bring the Camaro to Deaton's, I'll explain more when you get here."

"You got it boss."

Derek sighs just a little at how easy that phone call was, that even though Derek's voice was a dead giveaway that something is seriously wrong, Boyd trusted him enough to do as Derek asked even without all the information.   His next call is to Chris Argent and it goes almost as smoothly. Chris isn't thrilled about having to deal with a dead body but he was even less thrilled that a hunter was acting on land under Argent protection. 

Calling Scott is a little harder. 

Derek waits until Deaton gives him the all clear before he calls John and Scott. Predictably both men panic but Derek isn't one to judge, he's been panicking too. Almost as soon as Deaton is finishing bandaging Stiles' wounds everyone bursts through the door and the clinic is chaos for a few long minutes. 

*

Stiles wakes up with just as much fear and adrenaline running through him as when he passed out on the way to Deaton’s. At least, since he’s no longer in Derek’s arms but on a cold hard table he’s assuming that’s where Derek was running off to. And when he wakes up, he  _ wakes _ up. There’s no slowly regaining consciousness. One second he’s listening to Derek’ panicked heartbeat, the next everything is black and dark, and then in another moment he’s scrambling on a metal table and Derek is hushing him.

There’s a hand around his neck and another running soothingly along his flank and-

His  _ flank _ .

_ Shit _ .

He’s still a wolf, he’s still a wolf and he just got shot and now he’s going to be stuck like this. What if he’s stuck like this forever? He doesn’t want the last thing he said-

“Hey, Stiles. It’s okay,” Derek shushes him, his voice low and soothing. “You’re going to be okay.”

Stiles whines and picks his head up to look at Derek. His heart is still racing but he’s not about to bolt out of the room anymore. Or well, he’d try. He goes to try and stand up only to whimper in pain at the first movement of his leg. He glances back and sees the big white bandage before Derek’s hands are holding his head and turning him back to look away from his injured leg.

“It’s okay, just remember that you’re okay now and Deaton has dealt with your injury and said you’ll heal and recover with no problems.”

Derek’s voice is still low and soothing and now that Stiles’ heartbeat isn’t rushing through his ears he can finally hear more of his surroundings. There’s a cluster of heartbeats just outside the doors and Stiles knows the pack is out there waiting to lend support but currently giving him space.

“The biggest thing is that you don’t try and shift. Deaton isn’t comfortable assuring that your stitches will hold if you try shifting even a little bit.”

Stiles nods his head and Derek rubs at his ears which is more calming that it has any right to be. Stiles all but melts back on the table but Derek lets him and continues stroking his fur as he murmurs.

“Please don’t panic again but I’m going to ask what you remember okay?”

Stiles takes a deep breath and thinks. Waking up he remembered being shot but that’s about the extent of it.

“You remember the net?”

Stiles nods.

“You remember how you got hurt?”

Stiles nods but then he- Derek got hurt too. He tries to scramble up, whining in distress but Derek presses him gently down flat on the table again.

“You remember I got hurt?”

Stiles nods frantically, trying to determine if Derek is still hurt or not. But Derek’s still calm, his heartbeat steady when Stiles listens for it, his hands still steady in their ministrations.

“I’m okay, too. He wasn’t using wolfsbane. We found out his goal was to stun more than anything. He wanted to take us, not kill us.”

Stiles falls back against the table again because that’s all there is to worry about. He’s fine. Derek’s fine. He’s on his way to healing. He closes his eyes when he lays back to just take a breath. Maybe after he naps he’ll worry about the rest of it. Things like where the hunter is now and how he’s going to get by without talking and if his dad’s been told about the whole ordeal can wait a minute while he calms himself down and gets the last tendrils of anxiety out of his chest.

He must have done it all too suddenly because Derek’s voice sounds genuinely scared when he nearly shouts his name.

“Stiles!”

Stiles opens his eyes again, looking at Derek curiously. But Derek just sags in relief and Stiles lifts his head again.

“I thought- I thought you passed out or something. I thought something was wrong.”

Stiles nips gently at Derek’s fingers and slowly lays back on the table with a sudden weight in his stomach. It hits him then, what he’s in for as long as he’s wolf shaped.

They’re going to have to deal with a lot of miscommunications.

This should be fun.

*

It’s not fun. It’s been a day and a half of Stiles’ recovery and he is already completely over not being able to speak. He’s still worried about the last conversation he had with everyone. Derek especially. He doesn’t like that the last words he said, that Derek heard him say was Stiles thought he worried too much. When really, Stiles admires how much Derek cares and worries about the pack. It’s one of the biggest things about Derek that Stiles has been able to see grow in him. To see him go from a scared murder suspect to a supportive, respectful, downright loving alpha of a pack of teenagers has been the best thing that’s happened to all of them since the whole mess started with Peter waking up from his coma.

So he’s just not very happy with how things were left. And given he doesn’t know when he’s going to be able to shift back and apologize, and let that guilty feeling in his chest dissipate, he’s doomed to try and make it up to him as a wolf.

He still tries to communicate, of course he does. He’s got barks, whines, yips and growls at his disposal and he thinks he does a decent job overall. The hunter trying to capture Stiles and Derek was working alone so after Chris Argent was notified about where to find the body, the pack’s involvement was done.

After Stiles was officially cleared by Deaton to go home, Derek carried him to the car and drove him to the station where the sheriff was still on duty. John had come out in a panic, having only just saw the messages as Derek drove up. But Stiles just lifted his head to look at his dad as fully as he could and responded to all his questions.

Once he was reassured that Stiles was going to be okay he just leaned into the car and buried his face in Stiles’ fur.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he murmured just loud enough for Stiles to hear.

When he pulled back Stiles licked a stripe up his cheek and John didn’t even grimace, just smiled and scratched Stiles’ ears for a moment before kissing his forehead and bidding him goodbye. On the ride back to Derek’s house, Stiles drifted in and out of consciousness. He was tired, recovering, and a little out of it but when Derek parked the car and got out, slamming the door behind him, he jerked wide awake.

He panicked at the loud sound a little but then Derek was there, pulling him into his arms and he steadied his breathing and relaxed into Derek’s hold.

But where the vet’s office wasn’t the first misunderstanding, Stiles had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last feeling of panic he had over a loud sound.

Now, over a day later and Stiles is really, really done with not being able to talk. The pack had spent the day together, it was a Sunday after all, and Stiles endured hours of jokes and comments about how quiet it was without his ‘incessant chatter.’ And of course he had to bear it in silence. Mostly. He may have growled at Erica and Jackson. But Derek hadn’t done anything to stop either of them.

But today it’s just Derek and Stiles.

Deaton had called and said Stiles should try and move around today a little so he ended up trailing after Derek around the house. They kind of had a conversation with Derek talking and Stiles whuffling in response. After a while Stiles gets tired and curls up in the living room again and Derek keeps doing his normal chores and errands.

And that’s just how it goes for the next few days. Stiles worries over the last things he’s said, tries not to let the pack’s jokes get to him and communicates the best he can. Derek tries to spend time at the house with Stiles but he has errands to run and work to do and he’s not constantly at Stiles’ beck and call. And while Stiles sits in his bored recovery, the pack starts to fall apart a little.

It’s nothing major, but as the days pass and Stiles is stuck in the house moving around more and more in increments, the pack starts to fall into disarray. As much as they might not miss Stiles’ chatter and presence too acutely, they realize by the end of the week how much they depend on Stiles for the little things.

Erica and Scott start skipping summer school classes without Stiles’ disapproving glare and help with their homework. Boyd and Isaac are late for two shifts at work a piece because they didn’t write out their schedules on the calendar. Jackson forgets Lydia’s birthday of all things. The string of Allison’s bow frays because Stiles had gotten the stuff to condition it but never got it to her before he got hurt.  

Of course, no one really stops by during the week, so Stiles doesn’t know about any of it. Instead, as he continues to work on moving his leg a little more each day he still thinks they’re all happy with his situation. It starts to hurt the longer he sits on it and has no way to voice his thoughts. Eventually he gets to a point in following Derek around the house for exercise that he tries the stairs.

It’s slow going and he doesn’t know entirely why he thought climbing them to the second floor was a good idea. But it takes him about a thousand times longer to get to the top than it would normally. And by the time he makes it, he’s panting hard, tongue lolling from the effort. Derek huffs a laugh at him when he passes by and Stiles glares at him as much as he can.

He decides he’s gonna just take a rest at the top of the stairs and wait until he’s rested up before trying to go down them. So he lays down, front paws dangling over the edge of the top step and his head resting on his legs. He can hear Derek futzing around in the kitchen making some lunch for the pack. He almost falls asleep right there on the floor and after a while he’s ready to get back down on the couch to watch Netflix. He stands and stretches as much as he can without twinging his stitches.

He realizes after the first two steps down he’s made a mistake.

He can’t put weight on his hurt leg so he can’t balance enough. The stairs are wood and suddenly extremely slippery under his paws and he realizes with a jolt that he’s in pretty high danger of falling down the stairs if he doesn’t ask for help and  _ fast. _ He whines as he tries to figure out how to keep from injuring himself.

“I hear you,” Derek calls from the kitchen but Stiles doesn’t stop making distressed noises.

He lays down on the stairs putting as much weight on his hind legs as he can to balance him enough that he doesn’t topple down the stairs. But his front paws are still slipping and his whines turn to panicked barking as he realizes now he’s hung up on the stairs with far too much pressure on his wounded leg. And it  _ hurts _ so his whining and barking is basically an instinctual response at this point.

“Just a minute!” Derek yells annoyed and Stiles’ front paws slip off the step, leaving him stretched out and he scrambles to keep himself from falling down the flight of stairs completely.

Stiles knows he’s still whining and does nothing to curb it. It feels like another five minutes before Derek is there running up the stairs to rescue him. But it isn’t what Stiles expects from his rescue. Derek scoops him up quickly, without being careful and jostles Stiles’ leg sending a sharp stab of pain through him making Stiles yelp right in Derek’s ear.

“God, shut up, Stiles,” Derek snaps angrily as he carries him down the stairs and dumps him harshly on the couch before sprinting back into the kitchen.

He can hear Derek curse as he returns to whatever he was cooking but Stiles isn’t really paying attention anymore. He’s too preoccupied by the fact that his leg is throbbing in pain as he pants harshly trying to catch his breath from the ordeal. As he lays there alone and in pain, he’s never felt like more of a burden. This is one of the very reasons he didn’t want to tell the pack about what he was, that he didn’t want to start shifting regularly. Because now that he’s stuck like this, hurt and needy, all he is to the pack is a leech on the alpha’s time. Not to mention the stress this is putting on Derek as Stiles’ boyfriend. Who wants to care for someone so fully in a new-ish relationship?

Derek doesn’t come back into the living room to check on him and as soon as Stiles feels like he can, he gets himself up off the couch and hobbles his way into the first floor guest bedroom where he’s been sleeping most nights. He has to wait a minute to catch his breath and let the pain diminish again before he musters enough strength to get up on the bed.

Once he makes it, Stiles uses the last of his energy to curl up into a tight, miserable ball falling into a fitful sleep.

*

After the incident with the stairs, things get a little tense in the house. Stiles is all but completely silent, the only noise coming from him the sound of his claws on the hardwood and the kitchen tiles. When he has to go outside for the bathroom he just waits silently by the door until Derek sees him and lets him out. And then does the same when he needs to come back in.

And Derek walks around with his shoulders tense, his back a straight line of stress and anger. But while for most of the first week Derek would talk to Stiles despite it being a one way conversation, now he’s just as quiet as Stiles. Stiles may not be able to smell chemosignals as well as the werewolves but he can still sense the quiet anger in Derek’s posture every time he walks in the room where Stiles is.

Sometimes he can’t control the full bodied flinch when he finds himself on the receiving end of one of Derek’s glares.

It’s one thing to make himself miserable but now it’s like once he gets himself out of the pit of his insecurities he gets thrown back in by Derek’s reaction to his presence.

So it’s with great trepidation that Stiles follows Derek into the bathroom so he can change the bandage. Ever since the incident his leg has never really stopped hurting. Of course it hurt before but it hurts different now, a stronger ache than before that leaves him almost nauseous most of the time. And remembering Derek’s rough treatment when he rescued Stiles from the stairs he’s nervous about Derek handling the bandage.

But he follows along sedately and lies down next to the tub when Derek asks him to. He watches Derek assemble everything he needs, new bandages, alcohol, scissors, and cotton swabs. He’s pleasantly surprised when Derek’s hands are gentle when he picks up the scissors and cuts through the dirty bandages. But the surprise turns to a flash of pain as Derek peels it off too quickly, taking the scabbed over skin with it and effectively ripping a few stitches out and opening the wound once again.

It all happens so fast and Stiles can’t stop himself when he rears up and snaps at Derek’s hand that caused him pain. But then  _ Derek _ is hissing in pain and Stiles leans back and sees bright crimson red blood dripping down his already healing hand and Stiles feels his eyes go wide with horror.

If he was human shaped, he and Derek would have matching expressions. If he was human none of this shit would be happening. Everything happens in such a short period of time it’s disorientating. In the split second where he realizes what he’d done Stiles bolts. He just- he can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t want to be a burden, doesn’t want to cause Derek anymore undue pain. He just  _ bit _ him for Pete’s sake. Derek doesn’t need that. Stiles doesn’t need that guilt.

Damning the pain in his leg, Stiles takes off for the one door in the house that’s a lever handle and manages to get it open and slips outside. In the rush of adrenaline Stiles just ignores the sharp ripping feeling in his leg and continues to run, heading towards his dad’s house. At least his dad is still there to take care of him, that’s still his job as a father right?

*

Derek’s still sitting on the bathroom floor in shock even after he hears his kitchen door bang open and then listens to Stiles’ heartbeat fade into the forest. He’s at a loss more than he was before. Since the moment Stiles was shot, a feeling of dread had settled in Derek’s stomach that wasn’t eased in the slightest even after Deaton gave them the all clear.

Stiles has always been hard for Derek to read. He mostly attributes it to Stiles’ shifting abilities. It’s like Stiles exudes less of a scent than anyone Derek’s ever dealt with. And it doesn’t only cause problems in being about to track him by his scent, it’s also a problem in understanding Stiles’ emotions. Since he grew into his werewolf abilities, Derek has used his sense of smell and observation to know things about people.

Like, he knew Paige was curious about him even when he was being a dumb cocky jock. And he knew when his mom told him she was proud it wasn’t just something to keep him working hard in school. It helped him know that the woman behind him in the grocery store line was more exhausted and less angry than her expression showed. He knew Scott’s confusion and uncertainty was the reason they butted heads in the beginning.

But with Stiles, Derek has always relied on everything Stiles portrays to understand him. He can’t just infer from his scent that Stiles is upset; Derek has to see it in the slump of his shoulders and the way his mouth automatically downturns at the edges. Despite that, Derek has adjusted and now he’s able to understand more about Stiles than he has for any of his other betas, even better than how he used to know his own sisters.

But, the dread Derek felt was because for as much as Derek can recognize in Stiles when he’s human, when he shifts Derek is lost again. And with Stiles hurt, he won’t be able to shift back anytime soon. So right from the very beginning Derek was worried. Because he knew that with Stiles as a wolf, Derek wouldn’t be able to understand if Stiles was upset by something, won’t be able to decipher what kind of upset or even what he can do to make it better.

So Derek may have been sulking more than usual since Stiles got hurt. And he may have asked the pack to stay away after when they did come to the house they spent the whole day making jokes about how quiet it was and how  _ nice _ it was not to have to listen to Stiles’ chatter. He wasn’t dumb enough to not realize that wouldn’t make Stiles feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

But then the one time Derek’s cooking something time sensitive, something he can’t leave unattended for even a moment Stiles has to get himself hung up on the stairs. Derek doesn’t realize until the next day when he can actually smell the pain wafting off Stiles that he may have hurt him.

So he kept his distance. He was trying to give Stiles space and not expose him to how miserable Derek is without his boyfriend’s voice to explain things, without his arms wrapped around him as they sleep. He misses Stiles being in his bed curled up behind him, holding him tight making it so Derek sleeps through the night protected from nightmares by Stiles’ presence in his life.

But given the way he practically cowered the whole way into the bathroom Derek’s 80% certain he’s made a mistake somewhere. Or maybe it’s lots of mistakes. But apparently the biggest misstep is the fact that he didn’t do more to stop Stiles from running away after he bit Derek.

Because not five minutes after his hand had healed, Derek hears a pained howl out in the woods. It breaks him out of his confused stupor and he tears out of the house faster than even Stiles had minutes before. Given the fact that Stiles was bleeding as he ran it’s more than easy to follow the path he left. Derek’s breath catches when he comes to the edge of a small ravine because he can hear Stiles’ racing heart at the bottom.

He peers over the edge and finds Stiles looking small and frail sprawled out brokenly at the bottom of the ditch. Derek jumps down next to Stiles taking in the way his stitches are all ripped open, blood and puss escaping the wound. He just sits next to Stiles’ head, pulling his plaint body into his lap so he can run his fingers through Stiles’ fur.

“I’m sorry,” Derek admits quietly and Stiles whines. “I’m sorry for everything Stiles. We’re going to go back to Deaton’s and then we’re going to go back home okay?”

He pauses for a moment thinking.

“Unless you’d rather go to your dad’s. that’s not- I’m not saying that because I want you to go there I just want you to do what makes you comfortable.”

Stiles whines a little louder and Derek looks down at him as he picks his head up, eyes flicking back and forth between Derek’s own. Right, yes or no questions.

“Do you want to go to your dad’s?”

Stiles hesitates for just a beat before he shakes his head. Then he’s shoving his muzzle into Derek’s hand, the one he bit, and whines again before looking back up at Derek.

“Am I still hurt?” he offers and Stiles nods fervently.

“No, no I’m not and Stiles that wasn’t your fault okay? You haven’t done anything wrong. This whole time I-“ he trails off and shakes his head.

“Just know you haven’t done anything wrong, okay?”

Stiles gives him a look Derek can only describe as skeptical but Derek doesn’t wait for a response. Instead he stands, lifting Stiles into his arms as he does so. It’s not the easiest walk to Deaton’s clinic with Stiles in his arms but Derek is unwilling to shift him around anymore than necessary.

He’s grateful the vet keeps odd hours. He’s also glad for his backdoor. There’s still a customer in the parking lot, picking up their cat from Deaton’s care so Derek has to wait in the back room, Stiles on his lap.

“Hello boys,” Deaton greets before he catches sight of Stiles’ openly bleeding wound as Derek stands.

“What happened?” he asks, sounding concerned as he gestures for Derek to put Stiles on the table.

Derek watches Deaton pull on plastic gloves and gather the tools of his trade. He pets Stiles’ head as Deaton puts saline, cotton balls, new bandages, a razor and a jar of something that makes Derek’s nose itch.

“Derek, explain to me what happened, please,” Deaton asks again, tone brooking no opposition.

Derek just rubs at the back of his neck, awkward in the face of acknowledging his mistakes.

“We were changing the bandages, and I was trying to be careful, I didn’t want to hurt him again,” he says, looking down at Stiles’ face as he runs a hand over the fur on his neck and back.

“Again?” Deaton asks disapprovingly and Derek blushes slightly.

“I was too rough with him one day, I think it pulled at his stiches.”

Deaton frowns at him but continues to wipe away the blood and puss from Stiles’ leg.

“Anyway,” Derek clears his throat, “today we were changing the bandages so I could check on things and when I peeled it off it peeled off the scab and maybe tugged on a stitch. Stiles reacted to the pain and bit me,” Stiles whines and Derek scratches at his ears, “I’m fine, by the way, but he panicked and ran. Which is probably how the rest of them ripped.”

Deaton hmms and picks up the razor to shave away more of the fur from around the wound. Derek watches him take care of the injury that was clearly infected. The doctor’s movements are precise and methodical and it’s in no time at all that he’s wrapping clean gauze around Stiles’ leg and taping it in place. Then he snaps the gloves off his hands, covers the jar of ointment and turns to Derek, face solemn.

“I don’t want this to happen again so you’re going to listen this time when I tell you how to deal with Stiles.”

*

Getting Stiles home, after a not so subtle reprimand from Deaton, is a quiet affair. Derek gets him some food and  then carries him up to their bedroom. The hesitancy Derek felt from Stiles earlier in the day is gone, replaced by exhaustion. When Derek gently places Stiles on their bed, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even fidget, just lays his head back in the fluffy comforter as Derek changes.

Derek grabs the extra blanket from the hall closet once he’s changed into sweatpants and his favorite Henley. He shuffles back into his room and wraps himself around Stiles, throwing the blanket over the both of them. He doesn’t know how long Stiles is awake, but Derek murmurs apologies and reassurances until he falls asleep himself.

The next morning Derek takes Stiles outside first thing for him to go to the bathroom. Then he makes Stiles bacon and chocolate chip pancakes after gently depositing him on the couch and propping his leg up on a pillow as per Deaton’s instructions. He returns to the living room and seats himself with the plate on one thigh and Stiles’ head on the other.

As he feeds Stiles he talks, finally sharing what he’s been feeling since Stiles got hurt in the first place. That he was worried about Stiles’ mental wellbeing as he would be stuck as a wolf. That he was sorry he had the pack stay away, but that he was only trying to avoid a repeat of the day they were there and teased Stiles constantly.

He tells Stiles how he misses him. How he misses Stiles’ voice and the way he filled Derek’s silences for him. He misses Stiles’ hugs and the weight of him in their bed with him. He misses Stiles’ input and his cooking and the way he leaves a trail behind him anywhere he goes. He tells Stiles how sorry he is for being too rough the day he got himself stuck on the stairs.

Stiles seems to simply soak up Derek’s words like a sponge.

From then on, through pack visits, twice daily bandage changes, meals and bathroom breaks things seem to get better. At the very least, things do not get worse. Instead of flinches and cowering with his ears flat on his head, Stiles greets Derek’s presence with less and less hesitantly perked ears and wagging tail.

Deaton’s special ointment and his orders of complete bed rest have Stiles’ wound healing at a surprising rate. So it’s only four days later that Derek takes Stiles back to the clinic to have them checked, only for Deaton to pronounce Stiles healed enough to shift back, should he choose.

Stiles, instead of being excited as Derek expected, whines and squirms when Deaton leaves the room to afford them privacy.  Derek crouches down next to him, pressing a hand on Stiles’ neck to keep him still as he looks him in the eye. Stiles whines again and it hits Derek that Stiles is anxious about his shift.

“Hey,” he quiets, “it’s okay. Are you worried about shifting back?”

Stiles nods quickly and Derek starts to run his fingers through the fur on Stiles’ neck, searching out what Derek found to be his favorite, most relaxing spot. Once he does Stiles melts against the table, chest still heaving with the quick breaths he’s taking but no longer trying to get off the table, trying to get away.

“Deaton’s positive your wound isn’t going to reopen when you shift. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Stiles hesitates before he shakes his head.

“Is it- are you worried you won’t be able to?”

Stiles’ immediate whine and the frantic way he nods has Derek sighing a little before working to calm him down again. Once Stiles’ breathing is steadier Derek holds Stiles’ face in both his hands. They should have talked about this before, right when Stiles announced he was a shifter. But the topic of anchors never really came up. Derek had found his in the pack, and in some ways Stiles himself. But since Stiles’ shift is completely unrelated to either the moon or his heart rate, it being more tied to Stiles’ extreme emotions, Derek hadn’t found it crucial that Stiles know his anchor.

Derek sighs and resists the urge to crawl up on the table to hold Stiles in his arms like he wants to. 

"We should have talked about this before, Stiles. I should have made sure you knew you had an anchor. I know you mostly know what it means but the whole thing is a little different than how it all worked out for Scott." 

He's got Stiles’ undivided attention, Derek notices, when he looks down to see Stiles looking at him steadily.

"It doesn't have to be 'what makes you human;' that's too broad an idea. Yes, it could be a person you think about. But like Scott proved it’s not the best to have just one person to anchor yourself to. People change, die, get hurt, relationships shift and dissolve."

Derek takes a breath, thinking about if he was Stiles' anchor, how he may have messed that up through the course of Stiles' recovery. 

"But it could be thinking about something that gives you control, like a mantra or how you stave off panic attacks."

He quiets his voice, trying to be reassuring and calm so his boyfriend doesn't panic again. 

"Try and think of that and then  _ shift.  _ I'll be right here with you, I promise."

Stiles whines but doesn't start hyperventilating again. He just closes his eyes and Derek realizes he's thinking, trying to find his anchor. It takes a few minutes of Derek idly petting Stiles' face before he whines again sounding pained and shifts. 

Derek's there to gather the long pale limbs of his boyfriend into his arms not a moment later. With his face tucked right into Stiles' neck he can get a clear picture of all the emotions flooding Stiles' system in the moment. Pain and guilt, relief and misery all mar Stiles' scent so it's little surprise when Derek feels his shirt becoming damp from Stiles' tears. By the time he calms himself down, Stiles is shivering from being naked in the chilly office.

Derek reluctantly pulls back from his embrace to grab the clothes he'd packed at the last minute just in case this happened. Once he does he gets a good look at Stiles' tear stained face and his heart clenches. He hates that he could have contributed to that look being on his boyfriend's face. Stiles gets dressed while Derek finds him a warm cloth and some tissues. It's only after Stiles is fully dressed and sorted with fresh bandages and a clean face that he finally speaks. 

"My dad," he says, voice understandably rough, "Can you take me to my dad's, please?"

He sniffs and Derek can only nod unsure. He wants to pull Stiles into another hug but settles for wrapping an arm around his waist, keeping him steady as they walk out to Derek's car. As soon as they pull out of the parking lot he wordlessly hands his phone over just in case Stiles wants to make sure his dad is actually at home and not at work.

Stiles takes the offering for what it is and quirks a weak smile that relaxes some of the tension in Derek's shoulders. Stiles opts to text his dad instead of call and Derek understands why when he looks over as they pull on the Stilinski's street he sees tears welling up in his eyes again. As he pulls into the driveway and parks next to the sheriff’s county SUV, Stiles grips his hand. 

"I need-" he starts before needing to clear his throat. "Can you give me a couple hours with my dad? I just- I need you to come back later."

Derek nods and squeezes Stiles' hand. 

"Later as in tonight or as in tomorrow?" he asks softly and Stiles shakes his head slowly. 

"Tonight. Just, after supper. Is that okay?"

Derek tugs him closer and presses a kiss to Stiles' forehead, a part of him calming even further when Stiles leans into his touch. 

"Whatever you need is fine," he says as he pulls back. "Your phone should be in your room but I don't know for sure. I'll come back this evening after supper. Do you need help getting to the door?"

Stiles grimaces but shakes his head. 

"No, I can do it."

"Okay," Derek agrees easily, kissing Stiles' hand before he can get out of the car. 

"I love you," Derek says quietly before Stiles shuts the door and he leans back into the car, sad smile on his face again. 

"I love you too, Der."

Derek sighs a little at hearing the words and lets Stiles go to his dad, who's now waiting at the front door for his son. His son, who takes one look at his dad and walks as quickly as he can towards him looking ten seconds away from outright sobbing again. The way the sheriff’s face falls and twists in pain suggests Stiles doesn't even make it to his embrace before breaking down. The sheriff nods at him after a moment and Derek knows Stiles is in good enough care he can leave for a few hours. 

It's a few  _ painful _ hours it turns out. 

Having to drive away from his obviously distraught boyfriend, only to sit alone in his house hurts Derek’s heart more than he was expecting it to. And by the time he’s ready to just leave the house and get back to him he gets a text from Stiles encouraging him to do just that.

The sheriff is gone by the time Derek gets there so he lets himself in the front door. The first floor is dark so Derek heads up to Stiles’ bedroom and finds him curled up on his bed, his face still showing signs of his tears earlier. Stiles lifts his head up off his pillow and rolls his eyes at Derek when he catches sight of him hesitating at the door.

“Get in here, Sourwolf,” Stiles orders and Derek is all too happy to comply.

He crawls up the bed and wraps himself around Stiles from behind. Relief floods him again when Stiles melts into his embrace. Derek can’t help it when he buries his nose in the back of Stiles’ neck and breathes the now calm scent of him in.

“I’m sorry I sent you away,” Stiles mumbles and Derek tightens his hold on him slightly.

“I told you, it was okay. Whatever you needed to be okay was fine,” Derek tries to assure him.

“ _ Are _ you okay?” he asks quietly when Stiles only shrugs.

“Yes and no,” he breathes back and Derek can’t stop the questioning noise that prompts from him.

Stiles huffs and bats at his hands until he loosens his hold enough for Stiles to turn around in his arms.

“I’m not in any pain and my leg is basically done healing yes but, God. That whole experience was not how I thought being stuck as a wolf would go.”

He’s working himself up and Derek’s tempted to just let him go and get all the words he’s had to keep bottled up for the last two weeks out in one fell swoop.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I expected there to be communication issues of course. But I was expecting like, rides in the car where I got to stick my head out the window while you drove. Or getting ice cream cones or McDonalds. I wasn’t prepared to be stuck with my inner monologue and get thrown back to insecurities I’ve held since my mom died. And then that first day with the pack and all they did was poke fun at my silence. No one bothered to realize I was still dealing with being  _ shot _ and it might not be the time to tease. Then they stopped showing up all together and I just, I thought it showed how important I’m not to the pack, that they didn’t even bother to keep checking on me. It just snowballed from there and got worse because I couldn’t get any of this out and I felt like was going crazy. I felt like I was just a burden to you both as my boyfriend and my alpha. And then after I got put on ‘couch-rest’ I just gave up thinking. You didn’t seem as miserable as before so I thought whatever I was doing must have been helping. Today with Deaton, I- I wasn’t sure I could shift back. It’d been so long and I didn’t have a clue what to use as my anchor even after your explanation.”

He stops short there and Derek waits him out for a few silent moments.

“I realized what my anchor is when you were petting my ears, just rubbing them between your fingers. My- my mom used to do that when she’d hold me on her lap, no matter what shape I was. And when it was time to shift back she’d keep rubbing them, slow and smooth like that before leaning down to whisper, “it’s time to shift back my angel.””

Stiles’ voice cracks and he sniffs again as his face falls; he’s not looking at Derek anymore but is staring at his chest resolutely.

“That’s why I needed my dad,” Stiles croaks. “I don’t think about my mom because- because it still hurts. Hurts like a bitch to think about her. But it worked and I shifted back and so yeah. I’m okay but I’m kind of not. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be comfortable shifting again and I don’t know what’s going to happen with the pack or with you and I really need you to use your words and just, just tell me things are going to work out. That my inner monologue has been wrong this whole time.”

“It was,” Derek rushes to say. “It was wrong, Stiles I told them to stay away, they all wanted to check on you and did almost every day by texting me. But I saw what their teasing did and I knew they wouldn’t realize how hurtful that was until it was maybe too late. They started falling apart at the edges and I was so busy with everything else I didn’t notice until Erica and Scott had missed a week of summer school and Boyd and Isaac were late three separate times for work and were facing reprimands there. Stiles, you’re so vital to this pack’s daily routines we couldn’t even keep them going without you there for a week. You’re not a burden, to me or to the pack. I’m sorry you felt that way, really.”

Stiles looks up at him finally and Derek brings a hand up to cup his face, grateful again for Stiles’ simply leaning into the touch.

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly and Stiles’ eyes flutter shut. “You’re not a burden, Stiles. You needed help. There’s a difference. I said it before and I’ll say it again if you need me to but you did nothing wrong in all this Stiles, please believe me when I say that. And it might not happen right away, it might not happen for a few weeks or months down the road but shifting is a part of who you are. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or afraid of a part of yourself. When you’re ready to try again I’ll be here to help you and so will the pack.”

Stiles shudders in Derek’s arms but clings a little tighter after shifting closer, pressing his face into Derek’s neck. They don’t say a whole lot more but Derek’s content to continue to repeat his reassurances again and again as he holds Stiles. After lying there together for a while Stiles is finally completely relaxed and Derek is sure that they’re going to get through this without any major lasting issues. It startles the both of them when their stomachs start to growl after a while and they realize neither of them have eaten anything since breakfast.

Derek pulls himself reluctantly away and off the bed, helping Stiles do the same after him. Before they even get two steps away from the bed he pulls Stiles into his arms again and kisses him firmly, trying to say with his actions as much as his words he’s already uttered that they’re going to get past this. That Derek will be there for whatever Stiles needs to get past this because they love each other. And Derek isn’t about to run away over a little bump in the road like this.

Stiles pulls back and the soft, quietly happy smile on his face makes Derek think he gets it.

*

It's a month later and they're all out at Derek's house for a pack night. In the time since Stiles was able to shift back and continue healing no longer shaped like a wolf, the pack has proved to him that their actions were wrong. Not that they're to blame for Derek ordering them away, but for acting the way they did to warrant such orders. And that they never really tried to keep tabs on Stiles; they had to realize that Stiles had rightfully felt abandoned by his pack.

But now things are better than ever. The steady routine that had been disrupted by Stiles' injury was restored. Derek's relationship with Stiles was only strengthened when Stiles was able to accept that he's not a burden to Derek, he's allowed to ask for or need help. The only aspect that hasn't been completely resolved is Stiles' willingness to shift.

Derek hasn't pushed, and neither has the pack, for Stiles to try before he's ready. They've talked about it maybe once since the day Stiles shifted back and voiced his fears. And that was only to tell the pack they would be suspending Shifting Saturdays for the time being.

They finished the pack meeting earlier in the afternoon before they all cooked and ate dinner together. The last dish was just dried and Scott pulled everyone out onto the lawn for a game of Frisbee. Derek's just sitting on the porch steps watching them get organized. He knows he'll get pulled in after a while but for now he's content to observe.

Sometimes it hits him at times like these how far they've come. They may have had some rocky beginnings, may have had some rocky times since then, but they've all pulled together to really become a family. He watches them play for a few minutes before he realizes someone's missing. Scott notices the same time he does and jogs over to where Derek is still sitting.

"Hey, do you know where Stiles is?" he asks, brow furrowed in concern and Derek looks around realizing that's who is missing from their game.

"No," he shakes his head, standing up and expanding what he's listening to, listening for his heartbeat in the house. "He said he was changing, but that was like, fifteen minutes ago."

Scott's expression pinches further until they hear the front door open. They grin at each other when they hear four paws padding around the building in the grass instead of two sneakers. The whole pack cheers and stops the game when Stiles comes around the corner as a huge white dog. He trots right over to Derek, who kneels down in the grass, tongue lolling out of his grinning mouth. He doesn't stop when he gets to Derek but barrels him over and starts licking his face.

A laugh bursts out of Derek when Stiles' long tongue catches behind his ear, the scrape of it tickling Derek's neck. Stiles lays down, putting his full weight on Derek's body and rests his head on Derek's shoulder. Reflexively Derek reaches up to scratch behind his ears and pet down his head.

"You didn't have to do that alone, you know."

Stiles wuffs in Derek's ear and Derek pulls his head back by tugging on his ear.

"But you wanted to do it alone, didn't you."

Stiles nods his big head, still looking happy, his mouth stretched wide in a grin. Derek rolls his eyes when Stiles darts forward and licks his face one last time before scrambling up and tackling Scott. Scott laughs as they roll through the grass and Derek props himself up on his elbows to watch Stiles run from person to person.

Stiles won't ever give himself the credit he deserves, Derek thinks. Whether it's for what he does for his dad, what he does for the pack, or the strength he showed during the whole ordeal of him getting shot. He will always amaze Derek with how much he gives of himself to the people around him. Granted, it's a small circle of people lucky enough to get such treatment from him. But those people, the pack and it's allies, have all of Stiles' loyalty and fierce protectiveness at their back. Derek doesn't think he could have asked for or hoped for a better person to be with.

Sure, they have their issues and their own separate insecurities, but together. Derek shakes his head when Stiles manages to tackle Erica and pin her to the ground. Together their futures are going to be far, far better than their pasts.

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think and come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/) because grad school is painful and it would make my day to get messages.


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